


Heavy Lies The Head That Wears The Crown

by kissmekvothe



Category: Kingkiller Chronicles - Patrick Rothfuss
Genre: Ambiguous Relationship, Ambiguously sad, Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:50:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmekvothe/pseuds/kissmekvothe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The time comes for Bast to claim his throne as King of the Fae Realm. But as he prepares to leave The Waystone, he cannot ignore a growing fear of what might become of his friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavy Lies The Head That Wears The Crown

**Author's Note:**

> [Recommended Listening: Michael Nyman's 'Fish Beach'](https://youtu.be/ZzpvJT3t3u8)

One by one, Bast set the locks of hair in a leather pouch. He shouldn’t keep them, he knew, not now. His fiancee wouldn't like it, but she didn’t have to know. Besides they held memories, every one of them he knew exactly where they came from. A honey blonde curl from a gentle shepherd last spring. A long black tress with a bright yellow ribbon from a wry, sharp eyed duchess. His favorite; a full ponytail of auburn, tied with bailing twine, from a reckless young stable girl. He’d watched her hack it off, when she came to him that night, dressed in boy’s pants and a purposefully overlarge tunic. She asked him to tell her parents she was sorry (though she didn’t look sorry) but she had to do this, she had to try and become a knight, it was her destiny. He could understand that, certainly. Bast knew a thing or two about destiny.

“Need any help, your highness?”

“Oh Reshi, please don’t.”

Bast grimaced as he set the bag in a trunk and shut the lid. The news had come as a shock to everyone, Bast most of all. He could have guessed that his father would die in a hunting accident someday, having followed the king on more than a few overzealous pursuits. But he hadn’t expected it so soon, certainly hadn’t imagined that his stepbrother would be taken as well. There’d been scarce time to mourn, indeed the unlucky envoy had barely handed off his missive of the deaths before he knocked shoulders with the second messenger, bearing news of Bast’s imminent coronation.

“No.. I suppose that’s everything now.” Bast said, running his hand over the now empty shelf. The room looked distressingly barren now, the rugs rolled up and tied by the door with the trunks, the canopy bed bare of both canopy and blankets. “Alright if I leave these chairs?”

“Hm?” Kvothe had been looking out the window. “Oh, sure, if you’d like. I can always use more chairs.” Bast sat down in one armchair with a sigh, staring at the empty fireplace. Kvothe glanced out the window once more before settling in the other.

“No sign of them yet.” Kvothe said, cautiously neutral in tone.

‘Good.’ Bast thought, though he didn’t say it. He dare not imply he resented his new position, and truly he didn’t. But since it meant leaving Kvothe… he wouldn’t mind if the royal escort took just a few wrong turns.

“Why don’t you come with me?” The thought slipped out without meaning to, after rattling in his mind all morning. Kvothe gave the exact bemused, rueful huff Bast had expected. He pushed forward.

“I mean it. I could use an advisor like you, I-“

“No..” Kvothe shook his head softly. “No, I’m sure you’ll have quite enough advisors. Besides,” He gestured to the silent inn around them. “I can’t leave this.”

“You could have an inn in the capital, right at the border.” Bast smiled for a moment, imagining Kvothe pulling pints for the fae guard, elves playing cards in the corner instead of farmers, the human travelers exchanging tales of adventures lived, not heard, by the fire. “Or an apothecary, or a bookstore, or anything you wanted. Reshi, you’d love the royal city, think of the libraries, the culture, the music-” Bast cut off quickly with an anxious glance at Kvothe but he seemed unbothered by the slip. “You could just do so much more, there.”

“And you could keep an eye on me.” Kvothe said, not unkindly. 

“Yes.” Bast admitted. “You don’t seem quite… safe, for yourself, anymore.” The silence crept in then, reclaiming the emptied room. Bast watched it drape over the bare mattress, curl in the cold fireplace, and line the empty shelves. It was halfway through fogging the floor when the door opened downstairs, and someone called up the hallway “My lord? We are here to assist you with your luggage.” 

Bast scrabbled to answer, unable to decide between ‘just a minute’ and ‘hang on’ and ended up shouting “just hang on!” a lot harsher than he intended. “Bastas, get down here right now!” It was the queen mother. Kvothe chuckled as he stood up.

“Ah, Bast, I’m safe enough. And you have much bigger things to worry about. You know what they say about the head that wears the crown.” He gestured, half bowing, for Bast to go ahead.

“Right.” Bast said, determined to settle this even as they reached the stairs. “So don’t make me worry over you, Reshi. I expect letters. Weekly at least or I’ll have to put out a summons. In handwriting or handcuffs, I’ll hear from you, understand?”

“Understood.” said Kvothe, to end the discussion. 

“There you are!” The queen was fortunately in human glamour along with the rest of the entourage, though her fine clothes and the ornate coach outside were still drawing plenty of attention from the townsfolk. She lifted her black veil to kiss Bast on the cheek before embracing him. “Oh my baby Bast, thank heavens you’re safe after all this. Aww, I missed you, dear.” She was not eager to let go and continued holding him wordlessly for long enough for a few guards to clear their throat uncomfortably. “Well, go on.” She shooed them “start packing up.” 

They hurried to obey as Kvothe pointed them in the right direction. “Oh and Kvothe!” The queen said, pulling him into a hug as well before he could bow. “Thank you for looking after my son all these years. It’s always been a comfort knowing he had you to keep him on the right path.” 

“It has been an honor, your majesty.” Kvothe inclined his head graciously. “He is a very gifted student and a still wiser man.” 

“This is the last of it, ma’am.” The guard trying to fit the rug through the door said breathlessly.

“Ah, you must tell me all about it when there is more time. For now,” the queen turned to Bast “I’m afraid you have some barons to wrangle, they’re talking of a coup again.”

Bast groaned. “Consider them wrangled.” The queen kissed him once more before giving the struggling guard a push and following him out the door.

“Well-“ Bast started weakly, cutting himself off by pulling Kvothe into a bone crushing hug. He drew a gasping breath, trying not to get choked up. “Don’t do anything stupid, ok? Remember to write.” 

Kvothe did not sound like he was holding together much better. “Yeah, you too. Make use of that fancy seal ring now and then.” The silence hovered like smoke around them, swallowing everything except this. The sounds of the horses and entourage outside the door disappeared along with the familiar sight of The Waystone as Bast closed his eyes, focusing only on their shared ragged breathing, the familiar ease of motion that comes only from years of togetherness. He wanted to remember this, remember Kvothe this way, and every other way he’d known him. He would see him again, Bast told himself, this isn’t forever. But he was crying anyway.

“Hey,” Kvothe said reassuringly as he pulled away. “You’re gonna do great. I know you will” 

Bast only smiled sadly and nodded, embracing Kvothe a final time.

“So long, Reshi."

“Goodbye, Bast”


End file.
